


Untitled Brian and Gus Ficlet

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-27
Updated: 2004-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea.





	Untitled Brian and Gus Ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

About the time Gus started screaming was about the time Brian started to think it hadn’t been such a great idea to bring the kid to Babylon with him.

“No, no, sonny boy,” Brian murmured, trying to get Gus to stop hiding behind his leg. “See, this is a good place. A happy place. See all the men? When you grow up, you can fu –“

“I don’t wanna!” Gus shrieked, and he buried his face against Brian’s thigh and started crying. 

The half-naked crowd around them continued writhing to the loud, shattering techno beat, and all the flashing lights, for the first time in Brian’s life, were starting to give him a headache.

“Gus,” said Brian, “Gus –“

Gus whimpered something that sounded like “scary man, bad penis,” and Brian glared at anyone around them who might be the offender.

“No more scary man,” said Brian, “Now... okay, shit, fine.” 

Brian picked Gus up and held him firmly so he wouldn’t slip. Gus curled against him and tucked his face into Brian’s neck, his little arms coming around to hold on better. “That’s it, sonny boy,” said Brian in as pleasant a tone as he could manage. “Now it’s time to go find Justin. Okay? We’ll be out of here before you know it, just as soon as we find the little fucker. Right, Gus?” He kept a grin on his face through all of his words.

Gus sniffled and wiped his nose on Brian’s shirt. “Fucker,” he repeated softly.

“That’s right,” said Brian. “The little fucker. He’s bigger than you, but he’s more of a fucker, too.” He shouldered past a couple of buff leather daddies, gave a tanned 6-foot-something the once-over, and shielded Gus from about four squealing queens, all in the span of about five seconds. Let it never be said that Brian Kinney was not an efficient father.

“There he is,” said Brian, nearly sagging with relief, except Brian Kinney never fucking sagged. “Justin. JUSTIN!”

Justin was humping against some guy, letting the music wash over him, glitter caught in his hair and sprinkled across his cheeks, sweat dampening his hair and his shirt skimming against skin as he moved, and Brian would have found it really hot and probably would have dragged Justin off to the back room immediately except _oh,_ it just so happened that he had his impressionable young son with him.

Justin looked up and smiled, then looked again, and his eyes widened. He disengaged from the guy and came over to Brian, placing a comforting hand on Gus’s back. “Brian,” he said, “What the _fuck_?”

Brian shrugged carefully and tightened his grip on Gus. “Had to babysit,” he said, “And you weren’t there, and Gus wanted to watch the Yellow fucking Submarine and pitched a fit and I couldn’t fucking find your tape and your cell’s turned off, you fucker.” 

Justin blinked. “It’s at Daphne’s,” he said. “And so is my phone, the battery ran down.”

“Fine,” said Brian. “Okay then. Let’s go. My son is _going_ to have the movie he _wants_ ,” ... the unspoken _whatever the cost_ left plainly obvious by the circumstances.

“Does Lindsay know you were bringing him here?” said Justin. “Couldn’t you have gone to Blockbuster and _rented_ Yellow Submarine?”

“Shut up,” said Brian. “Your copy is better, anyway.”

“I recorded it off of the TV when I was _nine_ ,” said Justin.

“Lights!” said Gus.


End file.
